Crazy Bananas and Deathly Obsession with Harry Potter

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

I don’t think it’s much of a secret that I’m sort of in to the Harry Potter series. Sort of. Just gander over to the left hand side of this page. See that countdown button? Yep, I’m just a teeny, tiny bit excited about what Trent’s been calling “fucking Harry Potter week.” Which I think is a bit misleading, since everyone knows that if I was doing the nasty naked dance with any member of the Harry Potter clan, it would obviously be Ron. I have a thing for redheads.

As if I couldn’t get dorky enough, I mean, even with all of the Space Camp pictures and bad jokes and crushes on 18-year-old boys, I love me some Harry Potter. I began reading the series by chance. A few years ago I was a camp counselor (no, not at Space Camp!) in upstate New York. About mid-summer, I realized I’d read through all the books I’d brought with me, so while I waited for my mom to send me some more Nicolas Sparks (God, I’m a literary genius!) I borrowed the first Harry Potter book from one of my 7-year-olds.

I. Was. Hooked. I read through the first three (and, at that time, the only) Harry Potter books and was just itching for more by the end of the summer. But, alas, J.K. Rowling, that minx, waited to publish the next book until the next year. A whole year! But Harry Potter is like crack and I NEED MORE!

The day the fourth book came out I had been babysitting for my sister’s kids. On my way home, I casually drove past a Hastings and decided, why not? I’ll just go in and pick up a copy. Course, I did not think through this entire plan, as there was a line out the door and about 200 little kids in capes and robes with lightning bolt shaped scars drawn on their foreheads with permanent marker. So I stood in line until about 2 a.m. until I had my very own copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Then I went home and read the whole thing that same night. Because Harry Potter is like crack and once you start YOU CAN’T STOP!

The next two books I preordered, because, let’s face it, it’s much easier to sit at home all day waiting for the UPS guy than it is to stand in line at midnight with a hundred little ones all hyped up on sugar and soda pop. And that’s the same approach I’ve taken for the book coming out this weekend. Although I actually do have to leave the house for a 6-year-old baseball/t-ball double header, but so help me GOD, if I miss the UPS guy and don’t get my book until Monday.

I have my own ideas of what will happen in this final chapter of the Harry Potter story, but I think I’m going to keep them to myself. I know at least one of you readers is a Harry Potter fanatic (Mara!) and I really don’t want to encure your wrath if you don’t agree with my observations. Although I did take that Harry Potter class in college, so if anyone does want to discuss the cultural ramifications of the Harry/Voldemort struggle, I’d be happy to oblige.

Here is a link to another blog site that asks some very interesting questions about what will happen in the final book. If you haven’t read the last few books and have just been watching the movies (blasphemy!), I wouldn’t click, as it’ll give you some spoilers.

To tide me over, I went last night with my Harry Potter buddy, (and frequent commentor) Mara, to see Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. And yes, I wore the T-shirt, despite Trent commenting “We get it, the t-shirt is cool, but it’s not that cool. You may want to change your clothes once in a while!” In all fairness, I did wear it two days in a row. But it is cool. Damnit. The movie was (of course) not as good as the book, which Mara pointed out throughout the entire thing. Understood. The book is better. Just stare at Ronald Weasley and be happy, woman!

Harry Ron and Hermione

And to further embarass myself…
Spoof
Yes, that’s Lucy as Ron. And Irene, from my office, as Hermione. And no, I did not do this. This little materpiece is courtesy of the person who did this. The same person who convinced me to yell at the end of the movie “Will the wizard in the front row please put down your wand.”

Don’t forget, tomorrow is Space Camp Thursday! Get excited!

(And then she wallowed in her nerdiness)

Friday is for losers

I have no idea what the title of this post means, except it’s been a long week and I’ve pumped myself full of caffiene just to stay upright at my desk. And there is really no hope of a good post today.

But I will share with all three of you lovely readers my companion this morning. It’s an AMAZING summer music mix from Wood of Sweet Juniper, who is categorically hipper and has much better taste than myself. Listen and be happy!

Tomorrow is only a day away

Harry Potter Quiz

More proof that I am, indeed, a rather large dork.

Now, the question is, am I a bigger loser for taking this quiz, for getting all the questions right on this quiz or for reading People.com?

Happy Fourth of July!

Hope your day was full of last minute cupcakes, fireworks, alcohol, swimming pools and BBQ, like mine!

Cupcakes

Daddy

Mamas

Murray

I may have not mentioned…

When I entered Manhattan High School in 1998, I was a dork. A full blown, space camp-attending, buck-toothed, glasses-wearing, social pariah. I had spent the past 8 years at a private, Catholic school, with only about 15 to 20 people in my entire grade, as opposed to the 200 average at the local public schools. So I only knew 15 or 20 people out of about 400 that were in my freshman class at this new school, and most of them thought I was (as I’ve previously mentioned) a huge dork. I probably had about 3 friends to my name.

But this lack of friends actually turned out to be a big positive in my adolescent life. Because I didn’t have a lot of friends coming into high school, it was easier for me to make friends in all different cliques and groups. I was pretty good at sports, so I had my jock friends. I was nerdy, so I had some nerdy friends. I was into music and goofying off, so I had my hilarious, class-clown friends. And I was (secretly) into acting and the drama department, so I had my drama class friends.

My drama class was set straight out of a John Hughes movie. Very Breakfast Club. There was a nerd, a jock, a couple of goths, a debater, a hippie and a kid who just couldn’t stay out of trouble. And me.

Our teacher was this tree-hugging, happy, insane woman who just wanted us to loooooove the theatre. Many days I felt bad for her, since many of the people in this class just took it because they knew everyone got an A and it would be, basically, a free hour. But she always tried to get us involved, and gave us strange assignments that were supposed to make us less insecure, therefore, better actors.

One of these assignments was to lip sync to a song, any song, and do a complete performance as the singer you were impersonating. We were graded on this. And, to top it all off, we were going to have to perform it in front of the entire freshman class.

You could see how this would terrify someone who had 3 friends in the whole school and was hoping to make a few more, not lose the 3 and become a legend of embarrasment for the next four years.

There was a girl in my class named Rebecca. Rebecca (not Becky, never call her Becky!) had just moved to Kansas from New York and was much more educated in the ways of the world. She wanted to be a movie director and felt that Kansas was stifling her. We were put in a group together. Along with a red-headed class-clown, a gansta’ (yes, gansta’) girl and a hippie.

What group did we end up impersonating? What did we decide to perform in front of the whole school? The Beatles? The Jimi Hendrix Experience? Metallica?

Nope, the Spice Girls. I was Sporty Spice. I attempted to do a flip on stage. I fell on my ass. We got a standing ovation. And I made a couple hundred friends.

OK, maybe not a couple hundred, but at least people knew who I was now.

Rebecca and I continued to be quite the odd couple throughout high school. We were never “best” friends, but we always tried to take classes together. Sometimes we even sat together at lunch, horrifying our respective cliques. She was Hermia and I was Helena in our class production of a Midsummer Night’s Dream. We had to create a giant tree out of contruction paper for the set and I forgot my lines and instead shouted, “Lysander….go away!” during a very important scene. I also had to dress up as a cheerleader (our “creative” teacher decided it would be Midsummer Night’s Dream set in a high school) and Rebecca let me know when the audience could see up my dress. That’s what I call a good friend.

We tried to hang out throughout high school, but, of course, we grew apart. We took spanish together for a few years, to the shagrin of our teachers. We created a movie highlighting the Easter Rising for AP History where we videotaped a TV set playing a movie starring Liam Niesen. I was credited as playing the British army. We went to the state history fair and placed.

Then we went to college. She moved back to New York and I never really talked to her again. I emailed her on 9/11 to make sure she was OK. She told me about some of the horrible things she saw. Eventually she stopped using that email account and we lost touch.

But I thought of her today. When I read this. Maybe it’s time for a reunion of our own. I may not be able to do a back flip anymore, but really, I never really could anyway.

Spice Girls Reunite!

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